


The Side-Effects of Wumpa Whip

by Turquoisephoenix



Category: Crash Bandicoot (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, Body Horror, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turquoisephoenix/pseuds/Turquoisephoenix
Summary: Crash Tag Team Racing fanfic. Gather around the campfire everyone as I tell you the origin story of Motorworld’s mascot, Willie Wumpa Cheeks. It is a harrowing tale, one full of tragedy, horror, and artificially flavored fruit juice. Based off some cut dialogue. One shot.





	The Side-Effects of Wumpa Whip

**A Crash Bandicoot one-shot**  
****__  
Gather around the campfire everyone as I tell you the origin of Motorworld's mascot, Willie Wumpa Cheeks. It is a harrowing tale, one full of tragedy, horror, and artificially flavored fruit juice.  


In other words, I felt I needed to explain the ideas I had for Willie in more elaborate detail. Some of these details come from some cut dialogue that's still on the disc. Willie Wumpa Cheeks mentions parents and a law school degree in some of the cut dialogue, implying that he isn't like the other mutants (beyond being half-fruit)

**Characters:** Willie Wumpa Cheeks, Von Clutch.

——————————————————————

It was a crisp, summer night when Willie's life was ruined forever.

His day had started off so _boring_ too. "Boy, look at all those thirsty customers," Willie sarcastically said to thin air as he gazed out at the empty expanse of Happily Ever Faster, the fantasy-themed land at Von Clutch's Motorworld. Behind him, a speaker droned insipid happy-sounding medieval music that was just annoying enough to be impossible to tune out.  
  
Appearance-wise, Willie had the looks of someone who never quite exited the gangly, awkward, greasy stage of puberty, even though he was nearing 30, and he had the whiny, high-pitched voice to match. He was a pale beanstalk of a man with a freckly face that was prone to breakouts, clogged pores, and sunburns. Willie's hair was a natural shade of orange, and he usually made some attempt to grow it out and style it. Those attempts at hair care usually just amplified how obnoxious he always looked. 

Combine that with bad piercings and a lack of good dental care, wrap all of that in a retail uniform, and you got the very physical embodiment of Irritation.

His most notable feature though was his nose. And this wasn't saying this in a pleasant way; his nose was long and bent in several places. It wasn't like that _naturally_ , he was quick to say to anyone willing to listen. His nose was a chronicle of his many part-time "careers" he's had in his life, a beacon to how unlucky of a man he really was. **Four times** , his nose was broken in his life. And all four of those times, his nose was broken by someone else's fist.

_Why would someone want to deck this poor man in the face?_ you might be asking to yourself. Don’t pity him, gentle listener, because Willie's personality was not very stellar either. He was a bitter, spiteful awful little man that seemed forever annoyed by his place in society - someone who had been picked on so many times in his young life that he had given up even attempting to be nice to other people just out of self-defense.

No one was sure when the starry-eyed optimism of youth was unceremoniously crushed out of poor William by both menial labor and teasing - it could've been the time someone broke his nose (for the third time) over an argument involving some expired coupons while he was working at Best Buy, or maybe it was time someone asked him to pour nacho cheese over a bag of popcorn at the movie theater - but one thing was certain. If Willie ever found the man who coined the phrase "the customer is always right", he was going to kill him with his bare hands.

And now, fifth job on his list, Willie's current job was working at the fun and fabulous Von Clutch's Motorworld, a crappy little theme park out in the middle of nowhere (instead of hotels and civilization that surrounded literally any other theme park in existence, Motorworld was surrounded in miles of farmland filled with annoying chickens and gassy cows) that nevertheless paid a little bit more than minimum wage and needed zero experience. He hated it, but he also wanted to go back to law school in the Fall and his scholarships weren't going to be enough.

On paper, he'd be thrilled that he'd be making money just standing around and doing nothing, but boy, was he **bored**. He hadn't made a single sale today, even though he was stationed at the machine that had the fancy "Wumpa Pumpa". “What was the Wumpa Pumpa?” was a question he had to answer many a time during his shifts. Why, the Wumpa Pumpa was just a giant silver pipe attached to the dispenser that made a lot of fancy futuristic noises as it served up drinks. It was loud and annoying and it didn't fit the obnoxious princess and castle theming that surrounded him, but the children were somehow fascinated by the migraine-inducing noises it made. Thankfully, since his part of the park was usually a ghost town, it remained silent for most of Willie's shift.

That was the problem, really. No one actually wanted to _drink_ the liquid that came out of the antiquated machine. Wumpa fruits had only recently been discovered off some tropical island somewhere in the South Pacific and they hadn't exactly taken off in the United States or anywhere else on Earth for that matter.

And even if Wumpa fruits were somehow the next big sensation among soccer moms, the drink concoction that was christened "Wumpa Whip" was a sugary nightmare that barely tasted like it. It tasted like disappointment and wasted money. Usually a guest would buy the drink, take two sips of it, demand a refund, and then get irritated when Willie said no.

But, in fairness to the customers, when _Willie_ answered questions, he always sounded like he was one inch away from creating a hostage situation at Von Clutch's Motorworld, one that'd end with military intervention and a SWAT team taking him down.

"At least I'm getting paid," he finally mused, tapping a finger against the counter top.

He was fiddling with the paper cup stacks and the little bendy straws, constructing a little fort to keep himself from dying of boredom (Castle Wannagohome, he dubbed it) when suddenly the machine behind him made a explosive boom that echoed within its core and the metal behind Willie's back suddenly caved outward in a giant dent, knocking him forward and into his creation.

"...the hell?" he said after several seconds of stunned silence. He picked a plastic straw out of his hair as the alarm on the machine started to beep and warning lights began to flash bright red. Happy fantasy music, ever-present, mingled with the cacophony of the alarm.

With an irritated groan, because he knew his shift was almost over and dealing with a broken machine was going to eat a lot of his time, Willie grabbed the phone attached underneath the cash register and punched in the number he was told during job training to call in case something broke. He really hoped he didn't have to stay past his shift dealing with the Wumpa Whip. He had checked out a movie on Redbox and everything.

"Von Clutch?" he called on the phone.

"Ja?" came the reply. One weird quirk about Von Clutch's Motorworld was that, instead of there being supervisors or managers helping to run the park, everyone was expected to call the creator of the park himself in all of his green-skinned, metal-armed, weird-looking glory. Which meant that nothing really got fixed in Motorworld because most of the workers didn't even bother. Willie had the distinct feeling that Von Clutch wasn't the most shrewd businessman in the world.

"This is William Chromsky-" he had to pause as Von Clutch shouted " ** _VILLIE! HI!_** " on the other end of the phone. Von Clutch, in addition to being a cybernetic German nightmare (Willie wasn't sure how or why Von Clutch looked like that but he wasn't about to ask invasive questions to the person signing his paychecks), was one of those annoying bosses who wanted to be friends with all of his employees. _Gross._

"-I'm at the Wumpa Whip drink booth in Happily Ever Faster. I heard an explosion come from inside the machine and..." Willie trailed off when he noticed the smoke. The smell of burning artificial beverage was already filling the air as the yellow-orange liquid inside sizzled and popped. _Greeeat._ He didn't want to get written up for this. "...I think something's on fire inside of it?"

" _Hrm,_ that doesn't sound good," Von Clutch admitted. Despite that, his voice still carried the cheery tone of someone who was just told he only won _one_ free pizza party instead of two. "Try venting some of the Wumpa Whip and tell me what you see."

Phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder, Willie snapped some plastic gloves on and turned the machine on, more irritated than anything else. He only started to worry when a glowing green ooze that would've made a Nickelodeon game show proud slimed out of the dispenser. He yelped, phone flying out of his grasp, when the Wumpa Whip hit the cup; it was supposed at a frozen beverage temperature; this bright radioactive sludge was coffee hot and it took all of his past Burger King experience to keep him from sending the cup and its scalding contents flying.

"It's... _glowing_.” he said into the phone after he picked it off the ground. “And it's really hot to the touch." His right hand was now starting to tingle, but he was too amazed at the failed science experiment to really make a note of any first-degree burns. It even had the consistency of slime.  "Is-is it supposed to do that!?"

" _Um Himmels Willen_...No. No it's not." Even over the phone, Von Clutch's mood sounded like it took a sudden turn. That worried Willie; Von Clutch was one of those people that was always in a good mood, even as his theme park got low attendance and low ratings.

"Ahhh...Willie. _Err._ Listen, very very carefully.  You're **not** in any danger - that would be silly, after all _hahaha this is just a **theme** park after all _ \- but you need to turn that machine off right now. Right. Now. Take it off its power supply. Or else...well... _youknowwhat_ , actually I'll meet you there. Bye-"

**_-Click-_ **

The dial tone greeted Willie as he stared at the phone in disbelief.

After venting his frustrations out on the phone by slamming it back down on the receiver as hard as he could, Willie stomped towards the back of the drink machine, grumbling to himself and kicking pieces of trash in his wake.  
  
Lights and alarms were both still blaring and smoke was still billowing out of the top as he examined it closely. There were multiple orange warning signs placed around the power plug - complete with illustrations of bad things happening to nondescript stick figures - warning him that just pulling the plug out of the machine without initiating the proper shutdown procedure as described on page 71 in the instruction manual was a **bad** idea.  
  
But Von Clutch _did_ sound like he needed it done **now**....  
  
As soon as Willie yanked the plug out of the machine, all the alarms and lights went silent and the smoke dissipated. Pivoting on one foot, he turned his back to the machine, smiling a bit to himself as he swung the plug in the air like a lasso. That was easier than he thought.

"That should do i-"

##  _**  
*KRHK-OOOOOM*** _

  
And that's when the top of the machine exploded in a plume of twisted metal and drink mix and sent Willie flying forward, where he landed face-first in the dirt road five feet away from his station.

The force of the explosion and the volcanic eruption of Wumpa Whip could be felt and seen in the Midway area of Von Clutch's Motorworld, the one area where guests actually gathered in a reasonable number on account of it being close to the exit. Families stopped what they were doing and watched the magnificent plume of yellow-orange liquid spray upwards behind the castle. Once it was over, the visitors of the park started to hesitantly clap, unsure if they had witnessed something that was part of a scheduled show.

Meanwhile, in Happily Ever Faster, Willie found himself lying face down in a puddle of mud and Wumpa Whip next to a broken speaker. He groaned in agony as the annoying lead singer of the background music began to skip and repeat the same three notes in his left ear.

_"La laaaaaa laa-.....-La laaaaaa laa-.....-La laaaaaa laa-"_

Everything hurt. Wumpa Whip painted everything in a colorful slurry in a wide fifty foot radius around the broken scrap heap of the drink machine. Ears ringing and his eyesight blurred, Willie shakily rose from the muddy ground, soaked in juice mixture that scalded him in some areas and gave him frostbite in others. His sodden wet hair slapped him in the face and he screamed in agony. _Yep_. His nose was broken. Fifth time.

As he gingerly felt his face, wincing whenever one of his fingers found a new bruise, he failed to notice that the fruity concoction that had spewed from the Wumpa Whip dispenser was soaking right into his skin.

" _Villie!_ Hang on, don't move!" Von Clutch yelled as he quickly tromped over at a surprisingly agile pace to where Willie was. He almost made it to where Willie was struggling to get to his feet, but then stopped himself before he entered the radius of Wumpa Whip. He pulled out a remote control-shaped device with a long antennae from his coat and held it out in front of him, frowning when he read the data that crossed the screen, especially when he pointed the device at Willie. " _Das ist nicht gut, das ist gar nicht gut_ ," he said to himself.

"...Clutch...?" Willie said through a mouth that tasted of blood, dirt, and fruit juice. He had managed to raise to his feet, but his stance was very wobbly as he held a hand over his bleeding nose. His head was swimming and his skin was starting to go numb.

"Villie," Von Clutch started carefully, his voice not betraying the worry he was now feeling. He was seeing the beginnings of a _change_ in this cashier and it's been far too long since he had to deal with this particular sort of situation. And he was so sure he had left his mad science days behind him too.  
  
"You need to sit down." he ordered calmly.  
  
Willie quietly obliged, collapsing back into the mud. His head was pounding and he could swear he could taste the disgusting Wumpa Whip on the back of his throat.

"Boss...I think I might call in for my shift tomorrow. I need a day or two to sleep this off...don't call an ambulance by the way, I can't afford it" he said, unaware that his boss was watching him in horror. So many parts of his body hurt that he didn't even feel that his hair was starting to fall out.  
  
He coughed wetly and groaned pitifully as a lance of pain suddenly stabbed him in the stomach. Maybe he _did_ need to go to the hospital. Even the inside of his bones felt weird and he was certain it wasn't that bad of a fall...

Wait. Why did his _skin_ feel weird..?

"Okay Villie..." Von Clutch said as he fished out a modified smoke grenade of his design - patent pending - from a pocket in his coat and pulled out the pin. If he didn't do this now, Von Clutch reasoned to himself, the poor boy was going to notice and then he was going to _panic_ , and if he panicked _and_ grew claws or tentacles...well, Von Clutch already knew what it was like to lose an eye.  
  
The cyborg placed a handkerchief over his face. "Just breathe in deeply and everything will be fine. I'll fix this, I promise."

"Wha-" And that's when everything disappeared in a thick, grey smoke. Willie was caught off guard and took several deep breaths of the smoke when suddenly the world started to turn fuzzy and his limbs started to get heavy.  
  
"N...no.." he whimpered. He reached out an unfeeling hand, pleading, to the shadowy form of his boss, before he collapsed in a senseless heap to the ground.

And then everything went black.

\---------

Consciousness didn't come easy for Willie. He didn't so much wake up as his brain slowly pulled itself out of the muddy darkness, one sense at a time. First he became aware of the sterile smell of medicine and sterilizing cleanser. Next came sound, although everything sounded tinnier and he was already fearing permanent hearing loss caused by the explosion, as he became aware of computers droning and florescent lights humming. Then he opened his eyes and was momentarily blinded by the pure whiteness that flooded into his eyeballs and he groaned in pain.

As he moved his head slowly around - and he did it very carefully because his head still felt fuzzy around the edges and like it was much larger than normal - to gather his bearings, he realized that he was laying in a hospital bed with his arms connected to several machines and was in a clean, sterile medical ward.

_Oh no._ Willie's body slowly turned cold as panic flooded his senses.

_I'm in a hospital._

He stared upwards into the florescent lighting in numb terror.

_And I'm **uninsured.**_

Instantly resigning himself to his fate - not much he could do but wait for a doctor to give him the bill that he was doomed to be shackled to for the rest of his life - Willie decided to continue stare upwards into the overhead lights hanging above him and be left with his thoughts. He sighed so deeply that it sounded like his soul was escaping from his lungs. _Why is it always_ **me.**    
  
However, as the minutes stretched on, Willie started to feel that there was something strange about his body. He could feel that he had all of his fingers, all of his toes, the same amount of teeth he had when the accident happened...but there were **flaws**. It was like someone had rewired all of the spacial reasoning in his head and placed him in a body that had different proportions to the ones he was used to, and the longer he was conscious, the stranger he felt.

He was blinking with eyes that felt too big. He was breathing through a mouth that felt out of place. He tried to focus on his nose, which felt like a numb, heavy weight resting on his face, and beyond the plaster wrapped around it, it seemed too long and too...silver? He frowned. Gently he prodded the base of his nose and even through the plaster, it felt too hard to be his nose. Was his nose made out of _metal_ now?

_Man. These are the strongest painkillers I've ever been on,_ Willie concluded in his head.   _I must be coked up to the eyeballs._

He held up his arm in front of his eyes, noting that his skin was now a bright shade of orange, with the tips of his fingers fading into a strange dark green hue. He snickered a bit to himself as he waved his hand in front of his face. __  
  
Yep. Drugs.  
  


##  **" _Hallo, Villie!"_**

  
Von Clutch's entrance was so sudden that Willie jolted, hand still suspended in the air. Even in a medical ward, Von Clutch didn't grasp the concept of an indoor voice. He practically stomped across the tile as he made his way towards Willie, his face the very picture of joviality and relief. He was wearing a lab coat several sizes too big for him, the very ends of it almost reaching to the floor, which would've been a foreboding costume change if Willie wasn't so confused.

"V-Von..." Speaking felt weird. Moving his head felt weird. He ran his tongue across teeth that felt almost comical in size and tried again. "Von Clutch?"

"Nice to see you're not dead and with such stable readings on your vitals, yes?" Von Clutch chirped, giant customer-friendly smile plastered on his face.

An awkward, heavy silence followed. Von Clutch's smile slowly melted away.

"Sorry, sorry, I probably phrased that wrong. I assure you, I'm more... _reassuring_ in German. _Mein Englisch ist unter aller Sau_. You cannot **_believe_** the work I had to go through, by the way! Your accident is technically a violation of several agreements I made with Interpol and the European Union; _funny story really,_ I'm kinda not supposed to be doing the things that happened to you because it counts as 'supervillain activity' and I swore I'd be a good little Schmusebärchen after what happened in Paris-"

Von Clutch stopped himself. He wasn't digging out _those_ skeletons and he was getting an irritated glare from his patient. "Well, you don't need my life story, Villie. I'll be quick and to the point. Easier that way. You've been unconscious for five weeks-"

The bottom of Willie's stomach dropped and he stifled a scream that suddenly rose to his throat.

_Ohhh god. Five weeks. **Five. Weeks**. Oh god, my rent is due. I'm going to be evicted-_

"-you had a reaction to the Wumpa Whip-"

_I don't have health insurance, there's no way I'll be able to afford this, what will my parents say, I'll be paying off these hospital bills for the rest of my life when I needed money for law school-_

"-and well...You are no longer human."

All of Willie's panicked trains of thought inside of his head suddenly careened to a stop and caused a pile-up at the thought station.

"W-What...?"

"I assume you're a bit confused. But after some talk with an old friend of mine - she wanted you at her Academy so that she could study you and show to other mad scientists, by the way - I've set it up so that you have a new life ready to go. I have an apartment and your new job so you don't have to worry about living expen-"

"WHAT." Willie interrupted him.

"The Wumpa Whip that exploded all over you was radioactive, Villie. Every machine in Motorworld is nuclear powered. The same tech that used to go into doomsday devices and airships was repurposed to power the rides and the drink dispensers and the animatronics. Your DNA had a bit of a reaction to the drink mix and you sorta kinda...mutated."

"I WHAT." Willie persisted. He looked again at his arm and its bright orange skin. It looked human to him, save for some weird bright discoloration. The hand he was staring at clenched into a fist.  
  
"How can I have mutated? _A drink machine leaked fruit juice on me!_ What sort of mutant comes from _**WUMPA WHIP?!**_ "

Von Clutch opened his mouth and closed it again, realizing in mid-thought that there was no way he _could_ properly explain. Not verbally, anyway. He sighed, shoulders sagging, and for a brief moment, he looked...old. He wasn't ready to be this cruel.

" _Ich bin dabei diesem armen Jungen das Leben zu ruinieren_ ," he muttered to himself as he got up from his chair. As he walked to a sink and pulled the mirror from the wall, Willie's frustration did a sudden transformation into bone-chilling dread. __  
  
Oh.  
  
**Oh no...**

"This sort of mutant comes Wumpa Whip." Von Clutch said, voice surprisingly somber, as his hands flipped the mirror over and faced it towards Willie.  
  
  
And that's when Willie's life finally started to unravel.


End file.
